I Wear Scarves Like Nooses
by PhilEpicPhails
Summary: A closeted Dirk writes love letters to Jake English who, unfortunately, is taken. Only knowing each other from being in the same class, it's been three years that he's been admiring him; and now, he's irrevocably in love.
1. Sounds

**Hide and Seek**

**Chapter 1: Sounds**

Tapping feet, the sounds of a loquacious teacher going on a bird walk, and snores of students who had succumbed to the teacher's monotonic voice and the room's dimming fluorescent lights; were all the sounds that rang in Dirk's ears. His head constantly shifted from being down to looking up, facing left then right; and his eyes wandered behind his shades towards a small clock whose numbers were barely visible as he clicked his pen in impatience.

_Tick, click, tick, click;_ the tempo of his pen doubled the clock's as he scoured over heads to find familiar black hair and rectangular glasses. He lifted his chin and arched his back to try to not make it obvious that he wasn't listening to the teacher at all. On the edge of his seat now, there he was; windswept hair, a forest green army collared shirt, a dog tag, and bracelet made from miniature wood-carved skulls to top it all off. Three years since Dirk's been closeted and has been admiring Jake from afar since freshman year, when he ventured to try out for the football team (which he didn't make).

He fluttered his eyes and slipped into a state of daydreaming; imagining the feel of his arm around his shoulders, him resting on top of his nicely sculpted abs, and the slight scratchy feeling of his face when their lips would meet. Still in a sublime state, Dirk reached for his journal and started to flow out words on a blank page.

"_Dear English,_

_I can hear the bells, wedding bells; not the aggravating high-toned pitch that comes from the school's outdated rust-embalmed bell. I can hear the susurruses from our unnerving and happy friends and family as they sit in white-washed wooded lawn chairs, decorated lightly with orange and green flowers; not the murmur of gossip and trash talk that exchange in-between students as they sit in heavily vandalized 20-year old plastic chairs through a lecture. "I do" is all I hear, and I'll do whatever it takes to see those bright green eyes, staring straight at into mine as an aubade replays in my head the next morning - but how unfortunate Striders are, cursed with only being able to watch wind-swept, luscious black hair from afar. How unfortunate that it seems that if it were revealed for a man to love a man publicly, society would begin to fall apart by its poorly sewn seams. Wishing for you in such an environment driven by an outrageous, yet popular opinion; is like wishing for a tropical storm as I stand in the Sahara."_


	2. Kinetic Energy

**Chapter 2: Kinetic**

As Dirk walked to his first class of the day, clouds parted to form broken rays of light that shone through the musty, large school windows; marking the morning of a new day. He yawned a bit, before returning to his usual morning attitude – not giving shit and tuning out to the entire world. Careful not to act like the popular definition of gay, he strained his hips from sitting back into a more comfortable position and slouched over as he kept the look of a strong physique. Dirk held his books firmly with his arms wrapped around them, with his binder on top in case he needed quick access to it. His pace was brisk, and he lifted his feet high whenever he walked the halls because he cringed at the sound of squeaking shoes on overly-waxed floors; which is one of the many reasons he despised the school. Still tuned out, one of the jocks on the football team gradually increased his speed as he got closer to Dirk, climaxing to a heavy blow to the shoulder.

"You're not fooling anyone behind those shades, faggot." The jock let out a guffaw and then subtly whispered under his breath _gay little orange _as Dirk watched him walk away with his arms around two cheerleaders, almost enviously. He picked up one his books he had dropped, which released three papers stapled together titled "the Little Mermaid" he printed out the other night for his English class. As he scrambled multiple papers on the ground together, the bell rang. Although his papers overflowed in his arms, he picked up his feet and sprinted to his class in an awkward fashion. Settled in his seat, he continued to tune out and pull out his journal.

"_Dear English,_

_One day, can we run? Such a voluptuous and callipygian figure shouldn't belong here, especially with such flagitious and maleficent students present. A man like you shouldn't be the jester to raffish royalty, rather should be served by the best factotum. You shouldn't be running around chasing termagants who'll just fuck other men when you turn your head for a second; you have a man right here who'll make sure no one will even talk behind your back or do anything without your knowledge. So I say to you, English; I am already gaining momentum for you. Maybe one day, all this kinetic energy won't go to waste. Centripetal force is only created when you have a partner, right? But the down side is that all we will do is go in circles; like a whirligig. But you know why I'd prefer that? It's because at least we'll be together; infinite."_


End file.
